


Calmaria

by ngk_they_said, SerenityStargazer



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley First Kiss (Good Omens), Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Dates, Hurt Crowley, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Nanny Crowley (Good Omens), Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28944513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ngk_they_said/pseuds/ngk_they_said, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenityStargazer/pseuds/SerenityStargazer
Summary: While working at the Dowling Estate, Aziraphale comes home one evening to a distraught Nanny. Can he comfort his hereditary adversary? And to what might it lead?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 43
Collections: Do It With Style Good Omens Reverse Bang





	1. The Party's Over

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the Good Omens Reverse Big Bang 2020 by @do-it-with-style-events.  
> The fic is by the lovely SerenityStargazer and the art and story concept are from the wonderful [ngk-they-said](https://ngk-they-said.tumblr.com).

It was after dark by the time Aziraphale reached his cottage. Well, the gardener's cottage. His for as long as he was Brother Francis, gardener and angelic Influence for Good to young Warlock. It had been a long day, but thanks to Crowley’s instructions two nights previous, he had managed to get the front flower beds replanted with the pansies and put the bulbs down to await the spring. It had been a sunny, warm day, but the evening air held a crisp coolness that promised the soon arrival of autumn. He sat on the bench in the mud room and removed his boots and placed them neatly against the wall.

He was about to slip on his house shoes when he heard a noise from the kitchen. The only being who ever visited him here was his beloved demon. Er...erstwhile adversary? Although on opposite sides, Aziraphale and the demon had seen the best and worst humanity had to offer, and couldn't help feel more at home here than in either Heaven or Hell. The blond angel gave a happy wiggle of anticipation and snapped his fingers, drawing a bit of heavenly power to change from Brother Francis, resplendent in mutton chops and buck teeth, to his normal stalwart and slightly plump corporation and usual clothes. He and Crowley had been working at the Dowling estate for almost a year now, balancing the influences of good and evil in hopes that Warlock, the Antichrist, would grow up normal and refuse to end the world. Aziraphale decided to forego his overcoat and straightened his worn but beloved velveteen waistcoat as he stood to go greet his visitor.

His smile faded as he neared the kitchen. Were those sobs? Surely not. The two of them had gone through many human tragedies before, but the last time he could recall seeing the demon cry was the Flood. Truth be told, they had both wept as the corpses of humans of all ages and animals of all sorts floated by the ark. They had held each other in desperate need of comfort, cried until they had no more tears, and then never spoke of it again. Truth be told, the demon had a much softer heart than any of the archangels in Heaven. That was just one of the reasons Aziraphale lov - er, respected the demon. Which of course he didn't because Crowley was a foul fiend, long legs and warm ginger hair aside.

"Crowley? Is that you, my dear?" Aziraphale called out, giving the tall redhead time to compose himself and allowing himself to decide on a course of action. Tea. Tea was always helpful "I'll put a kettle on and gather some nibbles. Be out to the table in two shakes of a lamb's tail."

The sobs had halted when he had announced his arrival. But as the kettle warmed, they began anew, though more subdued than before. The blond thought and then added a bottle of Talisker single malt that hadn't existed in his kitchen five minutes before to the tray. Without knowing the problem, perhaps the demon might need something stronger than tea to say his piece.

He carried the tray to the table and carefully set it down. His concern increased at the sight of Crowley, still in Nanny garb, stretched out on the floor, head buried in his arms to hide and soften his sobs. Without another word, Aziraphale pulled out a chair and sat nearby.

Once he was settled, he spoke softly, trying not to further upset his beloved adversary. "Crowley, dear, what has happened?" He hesitated a moment, then patted his leg invitingly. "Come up here and tell me all about it."

One golden eye, red-rimmed and watery, peeked up to assess whether it was a serious invitation. Aziraphale reached into his vest pocket, certain he would find a linen handkerchief tucked away. He held out the cloth, embroidered in baby blue with his initials, towards Crowley. A long, elegant hand snaked out and snatched it. A few moments later, Crowley had shifted close to the chair, his head in the angel's lap, facing away.

The demon's flaming hair had escaped it's usual tight bun and pooled in waves and ringlets in Aziraphale's lap. His hand moved forward before he realized what it was up to, brushing some silky strands away from the high, beautiful cheekbones. Crowley stiffened a bit and Aziraphale jerked his hand back. "So sorry, my dear. I didn't mean to startle you," he said.

"'S'lright, Angel. Feels...not horrible. You can do more. If you want," Crowley muttered.

A grin grew on Aziraphale's round, cherubic face. That was probably as close to a "that feels wonderful, please continue" as he was ever going to get. He gently carded his fingers through the ember-bright locks and Crowley snuggled...no, never snuggled...settled into Aziraphale’s thigh with a sigh.

"Care to tell me about your day, dear?" he prompted. The demon had come here and waited for him. Surely something of significance had occurred and the angel's curiosity was stirred. And the tears were...troubling.

"Ugh! This day was shite, Angel! A complete and utter cock-up!"

"Everyone make it out alive, dear? No blood spilt?" Aziraphale spoke the words lightly, hoping to cover up his growing concern.

"Barely!" Crowley growled.

"Hmmm. I suppose you best be out with it then. Tell me the whole, sad business. As per the new Arrangement, of course. Keeping things balanced and all. Would you care for a drink first? I have your favorite scotch here."

"Yeah?" Crowley said, sitting up with interest. Aziraphale smiled and poured a cut-glass tumbler of honey-brown liquid for his foe. Crowley took the glass and downed half of it in one long gulp. With a satisfied smirk he settled back, returning to rest his head in Aziraphale's lap. My, it was a day full of the unexpected!

Crowley took a careful sip of his Talisker and started his story. Aziraphale sipped his tea and stroked the demon's hair while he listened.

"Hellspawn had a birthday party to attend today, yeah? Harriet had an appointment, so the plan was for me to take the lad to the party and watch over him. Harriet would come along later and we would all ride home together after the party."

"It all went much as usual when we got there. Lots of screaming kids, balloons, and running around. Sugar to fuel it all."

"I would imagine a few freed balloons, dear boy? A little extra chaos, perhaps?" Aziraphale chuckled. 

"Certainly!" Crowley smirked. "Demon, after all. But birthday parties don't really require a lot of wiles to tip things toward chaos." He finished the glass, put in on the table (near the edge, of course), and lowered his head back to Aziraphale's plush thigh. Another sigh escaped his thin lips as the angel resumed trailing his fingers through the riot of curls. Aziraphale's attention wandered to wondering how that sigh would feel against his own full lips.

They had never worked in such close proximity for such a long time; not in all their six thousand years of thwarting each other. All too often Aziraphale had found his mind wandering to those thin, expressive lips. Would they be warm? Soft? Would they fit together well? Would Crowley sigh softly if he pressed his own lips to his? Aziraphale forced himself back to the present as Crowley resumed his story.

"After the cake and presents, they played hide-and-seek. The grownups sat around the patio and chatted as the kids all scattered and a count of twenty later, the birthday boy went seeking. It was warm and sunny and everything seemed fine. Then, when all the hidden had been found, they started wondering where Warlock had hidden. He was the only one not found."

Aziraphale smiled. "You must have been very pleased with his hiding skills," he said.

"Yeah," Crowley said wistfully, "until he still hadn't been found at the end of the second round. Some of the parents stayed to lead a game of blind man's bluff, and some of us spread out to find Hellspawn."

"I tried to sense him, but, you know," he shrugged, "self-defense-non-detection-thingy. I searched all the places I would have hidden. I called and called, but the only response was from the humans also calling for him."

"Then Harriet arrived and she completely lost it. She screamed at me for not keeping watch. Said he could be dead or lost or kidnapped. Not that she was wrong. Humans can be just as devious and despicable as demons. She slapped my face, Aziraphale, right in front of all the gathered humans. And I had to just take it or blow the plan."

"And none of that was as terrible as what Hell would do if something happened to the Antichrist under my care! And what if they found out you were here, too? A little hellfire and it would be all over! I could have lost everything in a stupid kid's game!"

"Hush now, dear," Aziraphale said with a calm he didn't feel. "I assume Warlock is currently fine and safely home or you would have led with that, yes?"

"What? Oh. Yeah. Yeah, he's fine now. But...but what if he wasn't? That's all I could think about. It's all I can still think about."

"We can discuss that later if you wish to make a plan for future contingencies. But, for now, please continue your tale so I know all that occurred."

"Not much left, I guess. Harriet called the cops. We went on one more search while waiting for them to show up. I found him. He was over by the gardening shed near the edge of the grounds. He had found an overturned wheelbarrow and crawled under it. He was full and the day was warm, and the grass was soft, so...he fell asleep. Slept straight through the commotion. Didn't stir until I hugged...I mean, snatched...him up!"

"You must have been so relieved to find him!" Aziraphale tried to console his too-soft-hearted demon. Tears were gathering in those lovely eyes again, threatening to spill over. In his need to protect, Aziraphale's hand stilled from stroking Crowley’s hair and gently cupped his cheek. Rather to his surprise, instead of jerking away, the demon leaned into it, closed his eyes, and sighed.

"I told him well done on the hiding and the resulting chaos. He held my hand and chatted excitedly as we walked back to the house and the party. That stopped when we got close and he saw the police. About that time, Harriet spotted him and ran to us, scooping him up. I spent the next hour answering questions from the police. Not as much fun as you might think."

"No, I would imagine not." Although he really didn't want to, the angel pulled back his hand and offered a refill for Crowley's tumbler. The demon took it, and fell quiet for a bit, sipping the drink and leaning against the angel's side.

"You know, my dear," Aziraphale said thoughtfully, "with a bit of spin, today's events should please Hell mightily. The Antichrist threw the party into chaos to the point of lost tempers, police called needlessly, and festivities halted. I would say Evil prevailed at the party today. All due to Warlock and his nanny."

"Hmmm. Could be right, Angel." Crowley tossed back the last of his whiskey and put the tumbler on the table.

He looked up at Aziraphale and a grin spread slowly across his face. Aziraphale had to push down a shiver at the feelings that wicked smile sparked in him.

"What are you thinking, fiend?" Aziraphale asked with false sternness. "You look like you have mischief in mind!"

"Who? Me?" Crowley asked and batted his eyelashes innocently. "Actually, I had a thought how to end this terrible day terrifically."

"And that would be…?"

"What if I tempted an angel to an evening of Netflix and chill?"

"'Netflix and chill'? Whatever does that mean and would I enjoy it?"

"Eh, I think you would enjoy it. Netflix lets you watch movies on the telly. Chill just means to wear comfy clothes and relax. So...I could come over and we could watch a movie together on the telly. Tomorrow's my day off, so if we get sloshed it's fine."

"I'm listening," Aziraphale said, holding back a grin of his own at the demon's "wickedness".

"I need to head back to get Hellspawn bathed and put to bed. But after? I could slip back here. We could watch a movie or two. Drink some wine. Eat some popcorn."

"And that would be evil how exactly?"

"Could talk you into a Bond flick. Not exactly angelic fare, eh? And maybe…." He hesitated a moment and then pushed on, spitting the words out quickly. "Could tempt you into letting me put my head into your lap and doing that hair-strokey thing some more. Offering solace to the enemy and all." He looked down at the floor, not daring to hope.

"Hmmm. That does sound very wiley," Aziraphale said thoughtfully. "Very well, demon. I accept your challenge. I maintain that Goodness shall triumph over your Evil wiles and you shall flounder on the rocks of your own iniquity!"

"Flounder on your rocks, maybe," Crowley muttered. But their mutual grins betrayed how much they both were looking forward to the evening.


	2. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley have their first real date, enjoying James Bond, Jiffy Pop, and each other.

Crowley growled and snapped the offending, not-good-enough-for-his-angel shirt back into stardust. Hellspawn had fallen asleep a half hour ago, but he just couldn't decide what to wear to watch the movie with Aziraphale. Was it a date? Might be. Kinda sounded like it was. What had he told the angel? Watch a movie and wear comfortable clothes? But what if Aziraphale considered his usual suit to be comfortable?

Fuck it. The angel had welcomed his head in that plush lap. Better than bloody paradise, it was. And the angel had stroked his hair, stirring embers of hope that had been long banked and forgotten. Kind of forgotten.

Crowley snapped again and looked over the outfit. His long-sleeved Henley was a deep wine red. Just to provoke the angel. Certainly not to please him. And his usual black denims to please himself. And if they made his arse look spectacular, well...demon. Tempting was in the job description. He let his hair free in waves down to his shoulders. In case the angel needed something to do with his hands.

Time to stop dithering. It was just a movie. To make him feel better after a rotten day. James Bond and popcorn and wine with the angel. Perfect. He grabbed his coat and slipped into the night, heading to the small, cozy cottage.

He almost turned back around twice before he got to the gardener's house. Which was stupid, because it was just Aziraphale. Six thousand years of pretending the angel was just an amusing annoyance. He was a pro at this. Nothing new here.

He knocked on the worn red door and leaned against the door frame, a study in cool and nonchalance. "Bond. James Bond," he whispered to himself.

But his cool smirk dropped with his jaw when Aziraphale opened the door. The angel was wearing a soft-looking cream jumper that made Crowley’s fingers itch to stroke. He had his usual camel-colored trousers, but his feet were clad only in tartan (of course they were tartan!) socks and such cuteness should definitely be outlawed. Especially for angels!

Aziraphale's warm, welcoming smile faded as Crowley just stood, slack-jawed, stunned and unable to word. He looked down at the woolen cables and his hands worried at the jumper's hem. His feet shifted uneasily.

"Too casual, my dear?" he asked anxiously. "You don't like it?"

Those words triggered a memory and instantly Crowley knew what to say to put Aziraphale at ease. "No, no. I didn't say that. I'll get used to it," he said and waited. Aziraphale frowned a bit and then he, too, remembered that night in the church during the Blitz. The night Crowley had saved him and his books from the Nazis.

A soft, sweet smile replaced the frown. "Mr Anthony J Crowley," he said. "Your fame proceeds you."

Crowley smirked and pantomimed the hat tip from all those years ago. Then the angel's blue eyes gleamed with mischief. He asked, "Lift home?" Then broad, strong hands were circling Crowley’s waist and lifting him in the air. Aziraphale turned before setting the startled demon back down inside the mudroom.

Crowley made a sound that was definitely a fierce growl and nothing like a startled yip. Aziraphale looked much too smug and pleased with himself as he shut the door, but Crowley’s usual snark seemed to have deserted him. His skin burned where Aziraphale had touched him, but in a very, very good way. Satan's nipples, the angel was strong! He was so soft and unassuming, it was easy to forget he had been created as a guardian and protector. His body was appreciating the show of strength in a rather unseemly manner, so Crowley quickly turned and headed toward the kitchen to give things time to die down.

Aziraphale followed, chattering happily. Something about popcorn and the stove or something. Crowley was concentrating on convincing his cock that its services were not required or desired at the moment. When he got to the kitchen, he pulled up short trying to figure out the small, shiny silver pan on the immaculate (unused) stove. Unprepared, Aziraphale ran into him, grabbing the demon to make sure he didn't fall.

When he twirled to face his...whatever Aziraphale was...Aziraphale kept his hands resting on his waist, a fond smile on his angelic face as he pulled Crowley closer.

"Your shirt is quite soft and the color is lovely on you," Aziraphale purred. Crowley might have squeaked, but he wasn't sure because all his focus was on the angel. "Come help me make the popcorn?"

"Make popcorn?" Crowley asked dubiously. "Is that what the silver pan is for?"

Aziraphale wiggled in excitement. "Yes! It's called Jiffy Pop! You put it on the stove and heat it. The corn pops inside and it gets bigger, rather like blowing up a balloon. From what I read, cooking together is an excellent bonding exercise for a date and we were going to have popcorn anyway, so.…" He trailed off as Crowley looked shocked.

"Date?" he asked weakly.

"Oh. Oh, dear," Aziraphale said, his face falling with his hands. "I had assumed. I mean, what with the movie and the drinking and eating. But of course you didn't mean it as a date. Don't know what I was thinking. Just an old silly, I am."

Crowley placed a finger on those tantalizing lips, suppressing a shiver at the electricity of the touch. "Shhh," he whispered. "I capped a day of chaos and fomenting unrest with tempting an angel for a date. If things go well, might even tempt him for a kiss. If he's lucky."

"So...this is indeed a date? And you don't mind?"

Crowley grabbed Aziraphale's hands and returned them to his waist. He took another step closer and kissed the tip of that upturned nose. "Mind? 'Smy idea in the first place, isn't it? And I...am looking forward to tempting you tonight. With a small "t". Off the clock."

"Not for work?" Aziraphale asked, his smile returning.

"Definitely not."

"It's a date?"

Crowley leaned in close, lips less than an inch from the angel's, and breathed, "It's a date!" Then he turned and stepped out of Aziraphale's arms to examine the Jiffy Pop on the stove.

"So how does this work exactly?" he asked, ignoring the sad moan behind him. If Aziraphale wanted to be tempted into a sofa snogging session, he was the demon for the job!

Many laughs, snarky comments, a couple of lightly scorched fingers, and more light touches than they'd enjoyed in centuries later, the pair were finally seated on the sofa with a big bowl of popcorn, a lovely bottle of red, and a glass for each. Feeling emboldened, the lanky redhead ooched closer to the angel as he held out his wine glass for a refill. With an indulgent smile, Aziraphale put his arm up along the top of the sofa, allowing the demon to settle on his shoulder with his drink in hand. "Ready for the film, Angel?" he asked with a sigh of contentment.

Aziraphale sighed. "As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose. At least the company is nic-." Crowley started to hiss because the angel best not start things out using that particular four-lettered word. "Bearable," Aziraphale finished. Crowley allowed it, and clicked the remote to start the movie.

As the music for the opening credits began, Crowley watched Aziraphale's face closely. When the angel's eyes widened, he knew it was time and hit the pause button, eagerly awaiting Aziraphale's bluster. He was not disappointed.

"Pussy Galore?!! Is that actually her name, fiend? What...was this film written by a giggling pack of adolescent males?" Aziraphale’s indignation was all he had dreamed of, and Crowley cackled uproariously. It took him a minute or so, and Aziraphale's exasperation had mellowed to quiet amusement by the time he regained control and stopped laughing. With one last giggle, he switched positions, lying down and stretching out along all unused portions of the sofa, his head snug on those plush angelic thighs. With a contented sigh, he unpaused the movie.

Several huffs came from the angel at parts he considered "frivolous" or "extreme". Crowley could sense many an eye roll, but frankly, didn't care. He had the warmth of the angel below him and the coolness of Bond in front of him, and everything was simply fuck-tastic in Crowley land.

Then, about halfway through the film, a gentle hand landed on his head. "May I, dearest?" Aziraphale asked softly.

"Pfft. Er. Sure. Yeah. If it'll keep you quiet so I can watch, do your worst, Angel," Crowley blustered. Inside, his heart was trying to work its way out of his chest by way of his throat.  _ Dearest _ !! And then Aziraphale started stroking his hair and now THAT, boys and girls, felt bloody marvelous! He let his eyes drift shut, concentrating on the pleasure.

To his surprise, Aziraphale tugged on the handful of hair he was holding, admonishing him that if he had to watch, Crowley had best keep his eyes open, too. The sensation ran straight to his cock, hardening it instantly and pulling a desperate low moan from the demon.

Aziraphale startled and pulled his hand back. "So sorry, dear. I didn't mean to...distress you," he said.

Crowley groaned. "You didn't 'distress' me, Aziraphale. It just...felt good. Like, real good." He hazard a look up at the angel, hoping Aziraphale would understand without needing more explanation.

Aziraphale frowned. "Well if it felt good, why did you…." He paused and those stormy eyes swept down Crowley's body to fasten on the all-too-obvious bulge in his fucking tight denims. 

Crowley felt his ears burn. He closed his eyes and buried his face in Aziraphale's soft thighs. It didn't help with diminishing his cock's enthusiasm, but at least he wouldn't have to see the horror and disappointment on his angel's face.

"Oh," Aziraphale said softly. "Oh, I see. You liked that, did you?" Aziraphale chuckled deep and low and Stars Above, why did he have to sound so blessed sexy? A soft but firm hand returned to stroking his hair and Crowley definitely didn't whimper. Then Aziraphale tightened his grip and tugged. Fuck!! Against any control of his own, his back arched as a loud gasp was pulled from him and he clutched Aziraphale's thigh, pulling an echoing gasp from the angel.

Crowley abruptly sat up, snapped the film to pause, and retreated to the other end of the couch. "Satan, Angel, what the Heaven do you think you're playing at?" he demanded, pulling his stockinged feet up to make a barrier between them and let his long limbs hide his disobedient cock.

The blond looked stricken, which was definitely Not Good. Then he sighed and looked straight into Crowley’s eyes as if the sunglasses were non-existent. "Quite right. I have some things to say to you, and it isn't easy, so I would appreciate not being interrupted."

Crowley felt his heart, or what was left of it, fall. He'd fucked up again. Obviously. Time for another you're-a-demon-I'm-an-angel speech. Maybe he could head part of it off and avoid listening to Aziraphale reminding him that they weren't friends. He didn't think he could take that after the day he had.

"Is this going to be a gloomy one?" he asked, tilting his head back dramatically. "I hate the gloomy ones! You know I prefer the funny ones."

Despite himself, Aziraphale smiled softly. "Fiend! Of course I know what you like. And I think...I hope...you'll like this if you would be quiet and listen!" Aziraphale's eyes did that thing where they got all big and pleading. He couldn't deny the angel anything when he looked at him that way and the blessed angel knew it, too!

"Yes, yes. Alright. You talk; I'll listen. But I reserve the right to storm out dramatically if you get too morose and start to-be-or-not-to-be-ing."

"Terms accepted," Aziraphale said quickly. Crowley rolled his eyes and made himself stretch out like he was fine. This was fine. At least the angel wasn't storming off and smacking bushes in his ire. Maybe he could still salvage the evening.

"Yes. Well. I've thought a lot about you this evening. I mean, about us. Not there's an 'us', just...about the two of us. I've come to the conclusion that the Arrangement...well, it just isn't working any more. For me, I mean. You're not my friend, you're -"

"A demon. Yeah, I know. Hereditary enemies. Yada yada yada. Guess I should head back to the house now?"

Aziraphale roared, "Absolutely not! I told you not to interrupt, dear boy. Could you please just listen? This is important and I'm not doing it well, but I am trying to tell you...well…

"I was trying to say I want...more. I care about you a great deal, Crowley. What if, despite our work here, Warlock still brings about the Apocalypse? I could lose you forever! Everything, I mean. I could lose everything I care about."

Crowley’s heart raced and threatened to take leave of his chest completely. Aziraphale cared about him? Was worried about losing him? That was ridiculous!

"So I wanted to tell you. Before I can't. That I...well...I love you, you horrible serpent!"

Crowley’s brain refused to process. All he could say was a strangled, "ngk...yeah...wot?"

Aziraphale hung his head and stared at his hands, twisting his pinky ring furiously. "I am sorry if it makes you uncomfortable. I know that you don't feel the same. I don't even know if demons can love. And even if you could, there's nothing much about me to attract someone as spectacular as you. I just wanted you to know. In case I never get the chance to tell you again."

"Shaddup!" he growled, scooting across the sofa next to Aziraphale, his mind racing even faster than his heart. "Yer wrong, ya know."

"Beg pardon?" Aziraphale asked with a small frown. 

"'Bout a couple things there. First of all,, you are fucking gorgeous. Don't you ever let anyone tell you different. As to a demon's ability to love? Here. Best to show you. Faster. Easier." He grabbed Aziraphale's hand and placed it on his chest. He gulped, closed his eyes, and let go of the towers of control guarding his heart. He heard Aziraphale gasp and rebuilt the walls once again. Aziraphale's eyes were wide and transfixed on his chest when he looked up.

"Yeah," he said uneasily, "so I dunno about all demons, but this one can...love. I love one angel anyway. One beautiful, ridiculous, brave, clever angel. Just don't tell him, okay? He's likely to get a swelled head about it."

"Oh," Aziraphale said softly. "Those flashes of love in Tadfield were...you? It certainly felt the same."

"It's what comes of having you right next to me in the Bentley for an hour. Walls start crumbling. Stuff peeks over and pops out all willy-nilly. Book Girl running into us gave me time to stuff it all back."

"But...you never said! Why?"

He looked at Aziraphale over his glasses. "Really? Can't think of any reasons, angel? How about, 'You're a demon; it's what you do.' Or 'Oh, we don't know each other. We're not friends! We've never even met.' Blaming me for the Reign of Terror. Reducing our relationship to mere 'fraternizing'. Telling me I 'go too fast'. Any of that ring a bell, Aziraphale?"

He hadn't realized how much all that had hurt until he laid it all out. Stupid human bodies! Here he was, the Original Tempter, with leaky eyes for the second time that day.

Aziraphale looked stricken. Good. Well, not good, but at least he wasn't the only one upset here.

"Oh, my dear," he said, not moving his hand from Crowley’s chest, "I am so very sorry. I thought I was protecting you from Heaven’s notice. I couldn't bear the idea of losing you. Instead I pushed you away and did the job for them."

"Nah, Angel. Imma demon. You can't get rid of me that easy."

"Nevertheless, I am whole-heartedly done with pushing you away. May I hold you, dearest?"

The last word echoed so loud in his head, he couldn't hear himself speak. So he settled for nodding like those stupid bobble-headed dogs in the back window of an old person's car.

With a happy wiggle (so fucking adorable!), Aziraphale tightened his grip and pulled him close. Then two arms enfolded him, tucking his head between a broad shoulder and soft neck. He was surrounded by the scent of bay rum with notes of Tahitian vanilla and that old paper smell always unique to the angel. Oh, fuck, he could hear and feel the angel's heart beating, steady and fast and strong. Without his permission, his hands crept up; one scrunched into the softness of the jumper while the other buried itself in feather-soft curls. Aziraphale sighed contentedly, hugged him tight, and kissed the top of his head. Ok. That was an actual whimper, but he was too happy to care. Heaven had never been as perfect as this. Not that he recalled.

"As I was saying before you interrupted -"

"Demon here. What did you expect?" The hug tightened to a squish and he grinned into the angel's shoulder 

"As I was saying," Aziraphale continued firmly, "the old Arrangement no longer suffices, in my opinion. I would like to continue as before when we're with the humans, of course. But when here or the bookshop, in private, I would like to pursue a more...intimate relationship."

He sat up to stare at his companion. "Intimate?!" he croaked. "Aziraphale, are you saying you want...that we...you wanna bone me?"

"Crowley!" Aziraphale sounded aghast. Then he smirked and Crowley’s stomach dropped back down from his throat. "Well. Perhaps in the not distant future that might be on the menu. But you, my darling, are a meal I want to savor. Slowly." And he reached out to tuck a long firey strand behind his ear, leaving his hand on Crowley’s cheek, setting it ablaze with desire.

"That...that wasn't a 'no', Angel," he said, leaning into that soft, warm palm.

"Quite so, devious demon," Aziraphale said with a gleam of heat in his eyes. "But for tonight, we have a great deal to process. Still, there is something I have been simply dying to try! If you would be amenable, darling, I would like to kiss you now."

"Kiss? Uhm, yeah. Very amenable, me." Assuming he didn't simply discorporate from happiness. No need to tell the angel that, though. Aziraphale would never let him live it down.

Fuck if the angel didn't do the wiggle thing again, only this time, he felt it in the hand on his cheek. Before he could recover, Aziraphale drew him in close and slipped his hand behind Crowley’s head, tangling his fingers in the long locks. The soft pink lips he had dreamed about countless times came close. Closing his eyes, Crowley closed the distance.

Blasted Satan, it was better than any dream! His senses filled with the angel: his taste and scent and feel; the warmth of his corporation surrounded by angelic arms. He moaned happily and Aziraphale took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. His tongue licked along the roof of his mouth, darting down to tangle with his tongue and Crowley floated blissfully away.

The cold, hard press of metal against his face brought him back down. Shit! His glasses! Annoyed, he broke the kiss. Aziraphale whined, eyes closed, lips searching for his.

"Just a moment, Angel. Let me get rid of the glasses." He took them off and set them on the side table for later. Turning back, he looked into blue eyes crinkled in a dazzling smile.

"Oh, Crowley, it is so good to see your beautiful eyes! I've always loved them. They are unique and yours alone."

Crowley felt his ears burn. Stupid blushing corporation! "Shaddup and kiss me, Angel," he growled.

"Mmmm. Temptation accomplished, fair fiend!" And time slipped away, lost in each other's arms.

Reluctantly, Aziraphale finally pulled back. "My darling, I'm afraid we left your Mr Bond in a most precarious position. Shall we resume the movie?"

Crowley sighed. "Fine. Can we resume the hair-strokey-in-your-lap thingy, too?"

"You are so wiley, my dearest...of course!" Aziraphale said with a fond smile.

They watched the rest of the movie, full of happy contentment. Sure, Aziraphale made snarky comments about plot holes. And Crowley might have thrown some popcorn at the villain. But mostly, they were together, close in a way Crowley had only dreamed about before that night. And Aziraphale wanted to have sex with him?!! Yeah, he was going to have to work to wipe the grin from his face at that thought.

They laughed and drank the night away, squabbling about random topics, just as they had always done. Sometimes there were kisses. Okay, there were a lot of kisses. But there were a lot of missed kisses to make up for. When the wine was gone and the night was winding into morning, Aziraphale put his feet up on the sofa, his back against the arm. He picked up his copy of A Midsummer's Night Dream and then pulled Crowley down on top of him. Fuck, but the angel was the best pillow ever! Starting at the beginning, Aziraphale read out loud, doing all the voices, just as Crowley loved. He giggled and listened until the wine and the warmth and the night began to lure him to sleep.

"'Night, 'ziraphale. Love you," he said sleepily. The angel kissed his forehead and snuggled a newly miracled blanket around his shoulders. Tartan, of course. Bastard! He smiled contentedly into the angel's soft belly.

"Good night, my dearest. I love you, too."

They both settled in, together until Monday morning would turn them back into mere co-workers once more. But a lot could change in a day. Crowley drifted off with a grin on his face, imaging where this new Intimate Arrangement might take them on the morrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Backing the early 2000s, when this story takes place, "Netflix and chill" was a fairly new and innocent phrase. It began on Twitter and did indeed only mean hanging out and watching Netflix together. The meaning changed. Obviously. But Crowley just wanted to watch James Bond with his angel.
> 
> Find us on tumblr: [ngk-they-said](https://ngk-they-said.tumblr.com) and [SerenityStargazer](https://shipping-vaguely-downwards.tumblr.com)


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